


Something Just Like This

by solitariusvirtus



Series: Uncanny Westeros (Otherworlds) [22]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Courtly Love, F/M, Intrigue, Plots, Politics, R plus L equals J, Sibling Incest, Snow!Lyanna
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2018-12-23 21:33:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11998377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solitariusvirtus/pseuds/solitariusvirtus
Summary: The Crown Prince's wife is determined that her brother will not be any worse off than he ever was as result of his promise to her. To that end, she plans to use Lord Whent's event to find him, and herself, a shield against the plotting of some of the realm's lords. Her attention falls upon the guileless Northerner maiden whose manner impresses her and whose position delights her, for the girl is but a natural daughter and asking her from her father is not like to create dissent.Given the opportunity to repay her father for years of care, Lyanna sees her plans for the future brought to a halt. Should she accept the Princess' proposal there is a promise of favour for her brothers and father. Knowing such a decision cannot be taken back, she finds herself weighing the value of those promises against her wish for a simple, uncomplicated life. If she consents, the rest of her existence shall revolve around the schemes of power-hungry lords and there is no guarantee of kindness for her.AU! Lyanna thought she might dip her toes in the intrigues of her betters, but in King Aerys' court there is no such thing as half-measures. Not for those who mean to survive.





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

 

 

 

 

The hall had long since lost its impressive number of courtiers. How could it not be so when the King was yet in foul mood and all trod with care about, lest they goad him into a fiery display of temper. Alas, his closest kin could not so easily escape. Thus obliged, Shaena retained her seat, the goblet of spiced wine fixed to her hand even as her temper rose to boiling point.

"Keep your calm, daughter," her mother counselled, her touch soothing. And despite knowing her to be right, Shaena had a temper upon her as surely as her brother had their mother's talent for mumming. Her face grew hot under the effects of the anger visited upon her.

"Do you not see, mother?" she questioned back softly, "Lord Lannister means to put his brat in my brother's path. I would be a fool to trust her to remain chaste, but an even greater fool to think her father would not begin planning to see me swiftly removed." She hissed at the woman's daring.

Men took mistresses. She knew as much and her brother, though an excellent man, was still just a man. "Make no mistake, mother. If my brother puts a brat in her there will be war. The Lion is not a man to let such an opportunity slip." Her hand moved to her own rounded middle. The child resting within moved, causing her further discomfort to add to her frayed state. "If he is to take a mistress, then he ought to have someone sweet and gentle and kind."

"I fear there was only ever one Missy in the Kingdoms, sweetling," the Queen cautioned. But Shaena had not expected the countryside to abound with modest, sweet-natured girls. Still, there had to be at least one such creature about.

"I would sooner share him with the scullery maid than with Cersei Lannister." She was not without hope though. Her brother, mindful of her as he'd always been, did not respond to either overt or subtle advances. "I wish I could explain it to you, mother." But 'twere a different story for her mother, she knew.

"If he decides to take her for a mistress, and I hope he is not fool enough to for our sakes, but if he does, you will keep your counsel, daughter, look the other way and refuse to acknowledge her." Shaena nodded.

She wished she might unburden herself to her mother. But the Queen would not understand. For all she did not love their father, she hadn't her affliction. Her instruction upon her daughter's wedding night were proof enough. "Of course, lady mother." She would, however, make Cersei Lannister's life a misery if she had the opportunity. Had there ever been a more brazen bit of baggage? Eyes followed her bother. They always had. Shaena was not so cold that she couldn't acknowledge he had a pleasing form. But the Lion ought to keep his get in check.

If he were a smart man he would give her a good beating and have her kneeling at the Maid's altar to teach her some humility. But then, Lady Cersei had no mother, thus no close woman to counsel the man. And what did men know of raising daughters? She smacked her lips in silent dismissal. It would serve him right if she one day returned to his keep with a bastard in arms.

But then her husband had managed to disentangle himself from the fair lady and was presently making his way back towards them. She rose at his nod, for she could still walk about the chamber without her sire's say-so. Her brother offered his arm, which she took grateful for the support. Her other hand rested over the evidence their father used to congratulate himself when of a mind to stretch upon his laurels.

"Feeling better?" her brother asked, concern marring his features. She ought not to have spoken to him about her ill head. Rhaegar could not help himself but be kind to those in pain, his concern a burden as much as it was warming.

"I am well, brother." She moved with him towards the high arch of the balcony for some fresh air. "I am anxious though that there has been no word from our friends yet." It was might be imprudent to speak of such matters without the privacy of their bedchamber, but Lord Whent should have had something to say for himself by now.

"Do not fret." She nodded, but it was not as though she could help herself. "You must take care of yourself and the child for now. Leave all else to me."

"I hope it is a son," Shaena noted softly. "That ought to keep father well occupied." Her brother petted the protrusion at her middle gently, shyly, before pulling his hand away from her. Other men would not have been half as courteous. "I would speak to you, brother. Betwixt the two of us. Come to me?"

He agreed and then returned her to the high table and her mother's care. Shaena spent the reminder of the evening contently watching the revelry about her. When her time was finally over and father allowed her retreat, she was helped by her women amid a cloud of silken trains and light chatter. She joined them willingly, her smile polite, if not genuine. They took her as far as the antechamber, only Elayne Gaunt and Emlyn Rollingford followed.

"His Grace will be coming soon," she said, sitting down for the two to do their work. Emlyn had already begun tugging at the pins holding her hair up. The dull ache in her temples flared for a brief moment before settling. She squinted at her mirrored image in the looking glass.

Elayne unbraided the released hair as fast as she could, working her comb through the tresses with care and efficiency. "Then we shall have you readied presently," she spoke, smiling at her. Shaena smiled back, this time the gesture genuine. Emlyn moved back, her task done. She waited for Elayne to be done, uncharacteristically quiet.

"What is it, Emmy, dearest, why do you have such a look about you?" she asked, forcing herself to remain still. "Was the evening's entertainment not pleasing to you?"

"I had a letter from home, Your Grace." Shaena nodded. She knew what that meant. Emlyn's mother had finally been delivered of a child. "My father will have need of me soon." Her eyes darkened with unshed tears.

Rising from her seat, Shaena turned towards her long-time companion and took her by the shoulders. They stood at a height. "And when he calls for you, you may go. I am sorry it did not turn out as you'd hoped. And even sorrier for your poor mother."

"She will get better." No stranger to lost babes, Shaena hugged Emlyn close.

"You might have told me sooner, and we would not have dragged you to the great hall." Releasing her, she turned her attention to Elayne. "Tell those twittering feather-brains without that Emlyn is to have a single chamber to herself this night if she wishes it." Sometimes grief came easier when was unburdened by other souls.

Unable to do more than that, she sent the two off and placed herself abed, waiting for her husband to arrive. Rhaegar did not disappoint. The connecting door opened before long. He came through, carrying but a lit candle. His greeting was lost in the squeal of doors turning upon hinges. Shaena patted the spot next to her. She'd not turned down the sheets for him. And he simply sat atop them, taking her meaning.

"Well, sister, what would you have of me?" He put away the burning stick after gutting the flame.

"After I have this child, and if the gods be willing you an heir, I shall be unable to oblige you in any manner for some moon turns at least, and certainly not for a couple of years if you keep your vow to me," she put it to him bluntly. He had previously agreed not to come seeking her when she carried as well. "That is long enough to be without comforts." Just because she did not enjoy bed sport, it did not mean other women were as reluctant as she. "I should not like to be the cause of your discomfort."

He might turn to Cersei Lannister. And why shouldn't he when the girl smiled at him, all but climbing in his lap? She would hate it even more if he did. Her brother opened his mouth to speak but she stopped him short. "Pray listen to me. I shan't be put out if you've company. You were kind to promise fidelity, but you are no more made for celibacy than I for the marriage bed. Let me find you someone."

Predictably, he balked. "I told you, there is no need for you to concern yourself."

"And I told you, you are my brother. I wish you comfortable in all aspects, bed sport included." He did not argue. "Lord Whent's tourney is opportunity enough. Father will likely be too preoccupied looking for shadows to mind us."

"Why are you so bent on this?" The question was reasonable enough. Many a wife would cry to the high heavens should their husbands take lovers. "I have already promised you I shan't come to you now that you are with child. I do not mean to go back on my word."

"I am not questioning your honour." He arched one eyebrow at her. But she'd grown with him. That had no effect on her. "I mean to make you a gift." He sighed and seemed to settle in for a longer discussion. Shaena nodded approvingly. "Good, you are seeing sense."

"All I'm seeing is a silly girl meaning to torment me." She laughed. "Will nothing dissuade you?" She shook her head. "Well then I don't suppose there is any stopping you. I do not seek a mistress, sister. If will only work to train our father's eye firmer upon us."

"Not if we should be smart about it. But as I said, many an opportunity shall present themselves at the tourney. Have you any requirements?" It was his turn to laugh. "Fie. For shame, Your Grace; is this how you thank me?"

"Do you not know men do not much care as long as a warm, willing body is there?" he mocked gently. He would not forbid her, she realised, but neither would he aid her. She gave him a dry look. "No, no; you will not have any answers from me in this regard."

"I shall settle you with an antidote then," she taunted back. "It is no more than you deserve." There were times when she did not know why she bothered. Alas, she would not allow him to dissuade her any.

"Just as well that I don't plan to have the wench then." She gasped at his words and slapped his arm lightly.

"You will and you shall be happy. I vow it now, brother." He shook his head yet again and put her hand from him. "Very well, act as though you may have your way." She knew better, after all, and her brother would come to understand as well. Once he was sufficiently engaged.

As she'd said to her mother, she would not allow Cersei Lannister to sink her conniving claws into her brother. And if she had to lock him into a chamber with a woman to ensure his attention was elsewhere, she would gladly do so.

"I do not know what you are about," he finally said, "but do not think you may handle me as you please." She could see in his gaze, however, that he weighed her proposition with care. He was no fool, unfortunate though they might both be for having been forced together. Time to make the best of what they had, she supposed.

"You men can sometimes do with a bit of handling," she answered him pertly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

"You are not still put out by Ector's words, are you?" her brother questioned, helping her over the patch of ice with his customary solicitousness. On this day of all days, she was most thankful. "The opinions of fools need not concern you." She sighed and offered her brother a tired smile. "He was fortunate father did not hear him."

"But he is not wrong, Brandon." He stopped short, drawing her to a halt as well. The man looked down into her face. Lyanna could but guess what he saw. "Father might tempt one of his followers to wed me, if only to please him. But you know very well what manner of fate that is." Her own mother proved the point. "My purse might alleviate a husband's discontentment to a point, but it will not erase the shameful truth anymore than it might soften a man's heart towards me."

Her brother's mouth drew to a straight line. "I will punch all his teeth out and then I will break his limbs one by one, and broken though they be, he'll crawl on them to you and apologise." A small smile flickered upon her lips. "The swine."

"I pray you wouldn't." She might have knocked his teeth out herself had she thought that was an adequate answer. "I know he is but a simple man." And a kinsman as well. She could not have Brandon doing him harm, even though he be the heir of a great lord. The Flints would not take well to it. Her mother would not either. "His words have only pushed me to seriously consider my options."

"Your options? What are you about?" They'd begun walking again. "I'll tell you your options, you may have whatever position you choose, be it mistress of your own home or daughter in your father's house. If you choose a husband, be assured I will make certain he understands that your happiness is paramount."

A knight with modest holdings or a petty lord, she thought with a measure of distaste, men who would hold the facts of her birth above her like the executioner's sword; lording the great favour they'd done her forever over her. She would come to despise such a man. And he would come to hate her. Though she ought to be grateful for even that much. Other natural daughters worked hard for their keeping.

But then there was a greed about her. She wanted a man who would desire Lyanna, not her father's coin, nor an elevated status.

"If not, you have a place here. Always." She glanced at him uncertainly. But he, might be sensing that, pressed forth. "Has anyone treated you unkindly here?" Lyanna shook her head. "Have they cross words for you?" Once more she offered denials. "And nor will they as long as our sire draws breath, of course. But I swear to you neither will they the day I become lord."

Taking heart at his words, she bowed her head and thanked him prettily. "You are good and kind to me."

"Lyanna Snow, no matter the circumstances of your birth, you are my sister and any man with a lick of sense will do well to trifle not with you. Your mother's idiot husband should be horsewhipped and were he standing before us, you may be certain I would do precisely that. And with a glad heart at that."

She knew he would know what to say. Brandon had an uncanny way about him; a maiden could surely lose her heart if she were not careful. Good thing she was his kin and not endangered. "Well, well, then, you set me to blushing with your care." He laughed and maintained he meant every word. "Careful, there are those who will not take kindly to your views."

"Wynafryd Flint will hear something of me the next I see her. Any decent man heaps the sins of the father where they belong." Her mother meant well, Lyanna knew. But she'd always been common enough in her beliefs and as such, despite all of her motherly love, had made no protest when the man they wedded her to refused her the right to see her daughter too often. She'd explained that if the Lady of Winterfell showed much indulgence for her husband's dalliances with their Flint kin's folks-women, others would not be too quick to agree.

"It is enough that I have my brothers about me to offer comfort," she answered sweetly. Whatever others might say, in her father's house, she had been as precious as any other child. The mistress of the halls took well enough to her and how could she not when she'd promised her kinswoman any child she bore would be raised alongside hers.

"I'll offer more than that." She looked up at his tone of voice. "I'll make you the envy of all maidens in the land." His promise gave her pause.

"What are you about, brother?" The gods only knew what manner of folly could be springing to life in his mind.

"You heard me. Lord Whent's tourney shall serve admirably." Cautiously, she removed her hand from his arm. But Brandon paid her no mind. "A crown for my sister."

"Brandon, do not." By the look on his face, though, she would never be able to stop him. "What will people say?"

"No worse than they've said of any other brothers gifting their sister a crown." He grinned at her. "Will it please you to wear such an adornment, do you think?"

"It would please me none," she snapped at him. "I might be Rickard Stark's daughter, and had I been fathered upon Lady Lyarra, it might have been a great honour. Do you not see? 'Twould be untoward to call more attention to myself. 'Tis enough father allows my presence."

"What has your birth to do with it? A maiden is crowed for her beauty, and you, my sister, have been fashioned for crowns." Shaking her head in disbelief she showed him the back of her. But beast that he was, Brandon chuckled at her distress. "I would be honoured to give you the crown."

"Best you don't put your cart before your horses." Her words dissuaded him none. As he was wont to do, her brother turned her about with a deft hand, forcing her chin up, and her eyes to his. She could do but little other than grab at his wrist. "I shan't pray for your victory then."

"You will." His fingers moved at her nape. "And I will crown you. Should any think it in poor taste, they have but to challenge me."

Lord Whent's little entertainment was the first she would be allowed to attend. Lyanna was no fool. She knew that it was her once in a lifetime chance. She could look her fill, see what the kingdoms had to offer before she made up her mind one way or the other. Unlike their Southron countrywomen, the maidens of the North hadn't the Faith to fall back on. And even so, she should not like to squander her father's coin on a cloistered shelter. A husband it would have to be. For just as she did not mean to become a septa, she was equally undesirous of remaining in her father's home.

Her brother took her back to his mother's chambers, releasing her in the care of the lady with a bit of teasing. "Off you go, boy" Lady Lyarra shooed him away. She placed a comb into Lyanna's hand just as soon as the door closed. "That boy, he has no sense. There are harsh Northern winds without; why it could ruin your lungs."

"My health is not as delicate as all that," she answered softly, brushing with equal strokes.

"I heard that toad, Ector, got above himself yet again," the lady of the house murmured after a few moments. Lyanna stopped midstroke. The woman turned towards her. "The next his tongue decides to misbehave, pour your wine over his head. That ought to quell his fire some."

"Ector Flint has always been chary in his compliments, 'tis naught to complain over now." She put the comb away. "I saw my mother and her new babe; and that was my goal. Ector's good opinion is immaterial."

"Those are mountain Flints for you," the elder complained.

"Torghen Flint was kind enough to take him to task." Lyanna rather liked the Flint heir. He was a kindly man and if she were not bastard born she might have set her cap at him. But then, Lady Lyarra's mother was his aunt. Might be it should not have been acceptable were she born in wedlock after all.

"I will remember his kindness." Since Lady Lyarra had no daughter of her own and females were not likely to make much trouble, she'd taken Lyanna to her bosom once Wynafryd was sent back to her folk to be wed. "Now, tell me if you have all you need for this tourney. There is still time to purchase a few new bolts of cloth and make a kirtle or two. Something of gayer colour would not be amiss."

"I haven't the audacity to step beyond my designated place, my lady," she answered, settling upon the bench when her mistress bade her. Lyanna allowed the woman to step behind her without complain and unbind her hair.

"You should if you plan to wed a Southron." She flinched. "You thought I would not hear of this plan of yours? I grant you, ten gold pieces and six silvers along with half a dozen coppers is a good dowry, as good as any girl's. But you must keep in mind, he is not like to look beyond your birth, unless he's half-mad with want for you."

"Want?" She wasn't coy by nature, except in her dealings with men, as all maidens ought to be, but she hadn't the faintest what the woman was about. "Surely you do not mean I ought to make free with my affection."

"Not at all. But men desire to be engaged. You must appear as though you care for your appearance." Hands settled upon her shoulders. "You've a pretty face, yes, but 'tis hardly enough to keep a man. You must prove to him that you will be the woman to make him proud in any setting."

"My lady would counsel me?" The weight upon her shoulders shifted lightly.

"If 'tis your desire to wed, then I shall do so." She nodded her head. "Keep yourself neat. Men, just like women, frown upon a slovenly countenance." The weight lifted. "Be civil and polite, and engaging if you can manage it. Listen to what a man says, but above all watch what he does. And have a care that he doesn't take it into his head he may have you for nothing." She felt the heavy ropes of hair twist about as the woman braided her a plait. "Some will look at you and think that because of your status they needn't defer to your wishes. Avoid them. Those are men who respect no woman and for that they should have none."

"Yes, my lady." She'd known a man or two who thought her being a bastard meant they could speak to her as they would. "I shall make certain one of my brothers is about."

"Keep your dirk about you, if you suspect such a man has landed in your path. Otherwise, be kindly in your rebuffs, for even as you may encounter a man willing when you are not, if they do you no harm, there is no need to strike at them. Above all, keep in mind that you are under no obligation to choose anyone."

"I will remember," she managed past her constricting throat.

"You are a good and kindly girl. Whoever the man you wish to give your affections to is, he ought to have respect for you. A woman whose man respects her is secure in her position." Lady Lyarra let her up.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

 

 

 

"It does occur to me that one hardly has the best of choices, when one is not in the know," Eddara Mormont offered, her blue eyes lit with a smidgeon of amusement. Whether at her expense or at the situation, Lyanna was not entirely certain. Though born a Glover, Eddara had a wicked wit about her. What the gods had refused her in stunning beauty, they had compensated with a sharp mind. Had she been born a man, she might have gone to Oldtown to study. As matter stood, she had been relegated to wifely duty towards a man who neither saw her value, nor cared to discover it. In a family of unexceptional men and women, it was she who, most assuredly, deserved more recognition. "I wedded young, you know? My father had little dowry and old Jeor was willing to pay the brideprice even so."

The fate of some houses, Lyanna knew. In trying times, daughters were expected to try and alleviate the burden. "How wise of him to have chosen such a bride for his son." She'd not had many occasions to rub elbows with the woman. She knew her more by reputation and the unfortunate fact her inability to carry to term became gossip fodder.

"Very soon it shall be a decade since I was wed" Eddara confessed, her brow furrowing lightly. "Men are strangely familiar beasts, if I may be so bold." Who was she to deny the lady; after all, Lyanna knew but few men. "The harm with them is that one would be hard pressed to find a man who will ever change enough to suit a woman." She laughed at some jest Lyanna was not privy to. "Women have a similar flaw as well."

"They do?" They were quite right to call her wit wicked, though Lyanna knew that to make such a decision on so tenuous an acquaintance was not best form. She was too frank by half, but then, very few people sought to use artifice with her outside her father's presence. Lyanna did not fee; slighted in the least. And Lady Eddara did not strike her as malicious in intent.

"Indeed, so. A man would be hard pressed to find a woman who will not change with the passage of time. You see, the gods must have given each their own slights to complain of, in their wisdom; I trust 'tis because they knew perfect harmony breeds placidity. Mistrust a man who will agree with your every word. Such a creature is either not listening, or dim-witted to a fault. Had you great power at your disposal, you might have preferred such a mate, as some women do, however, you will need a man of, shall we say, substance." In some ways, the woman made perfect sense.

"My lady, I am simply looking for a kind man. If I could but divine his character at a glance." She sighed. Such thoughts were folly. "I know it must seem a strange thing; but power does not interest me."

"It should," Eddara Mormont told her bluntly. "Since we've started so, let us continue so; frankly, you are a beautiful young woman with the unfortunate flaw of having been born on the wrong side of the blanket. Power will serve you well in one way and one way only; it shall prove your worth."

Confusion bubbled to the surface. "I do not mean to be obtuse, my lady, but I confess to not understanding your meaning. What has power to do with worth where I am concerned?"

The good lady allowed herself a small sound which Lyanna could not interpret before tugging on the reins of her mare as the beast snorted. "Settle yourself, imp," she said warningly to the horse. To Lyanna, she addressed the following, "Powerful men have a pride about them; it usually puts those of a lesser rank to trial should they desire a match. To convince a powerful man to take you under his wing, you must offer something other than a pretty face. To be perfectly candid, a powerful man may have his sport and be on his way. If you prove yourself worth a little effort, you may be certain a smart fellow would not hesitate to take you by his side. Power generally wishes for more power, worth accrues power in certain conditions."

"What of kindness?" And affection, and a thousand other things she dared not name for fear she would be laughed at.

The other woman's countenance softened. "Watch the man who holds your interest outside of your own company, lady. Watch him direct the serfs, or speak to his squires, if he has them. Watch him, if you've the chance, in the company of his betters. Your eyes are powerful tools."

She considered the words with care. Lyanna only then realised the lady had shied from using the term she'd had in mind the whole time. Aye, she'd subtly hinted at liaisons, but not of a nature to be sanctioned by the gods. "Is it, do you think, an impossible dream to hope for marriage?"

"In the olden days, before the Andals brought their Seven with them, marriages were a far less complicated matter. Common law would consider a man you share a home with your husband, even if the High Septon should be less giving. At the end of the day, you must make a decision pleasing to you in this regards, especially considering your singular fortune in being allowed so broad a choice." Lyanna gave her a brief nod, sensing there was more to come. "I was wedded for my family's gain, and may my tongue wither and fall out if I complain of it; peasant girls are wedded so neighbours may better work together, noble ladies should elevate the consequence of their kin. Marriage is about gain. Such does not exclude passion, affection or even the ever elusive element of love; but do not mistake its purpose."

"Of course, my lady, I did not mean to imply otherwise. I was simply concerned that whatever match is contracted should be based on genuine geniality from both sides. I shall consider your words with utmost care, lady, for they strike me as sound advice."

That seemed to be just the thing to say. Eddara Mormont gave her a light, approving smile before nodding her head. The smile faded however as she looked up ahead and the genuine pleasure turned to ashes. "I see my lord husband wishes words with me. Pray excuse my absence for but a moment."

Lyanna was not entirely familiar with Jeorah Mormont. She'd known his father, Lord Jeor, for the man had come to Winterfell with his daughter and granddaughters. She was also not entirely certain she liked the man half as well as she'd liked his father. Although that, Lyanna supposed, could not be blamed entirely on the new lord of Bear Island. The man could hardly be faulted for not being exactnly like his father, even though the man in question was an excellent man, to be sure.

Before she could allow her thoughts to run with that, her brother drew near, a grin upon his lips. "Finally free, are we? I thought she might never leave."

Frowning up at his, Lyanna resisted the urge to chide him. "I would not consider myself a prisoner precisely, brother. There is enough road here that any one of us might have a piece if it for themselves." Except that she did not particularly enjoy being alone when travelling.

"Don't be obtuse; you know what I mean." The trouble was she did know what he meant and found she disagreed very much with him on the nature of Lady Eddara.

"Why is it that you do not like the lady, Brandon? Surely you are not still wrought about that incident with Lord Ryswell." Her brother flushed. "Come now, they are kin and if she thought you a danger to poor Lady Barbrey, I'm sure she had good reason."

"Whose side are you on, again?" he demanded, giving her a sharp look.

Lyanna laughed. "Always on your side, as you well know. I am simply saying that Lady Eddara being some manner of kin with your ladyfair saw it as her duty to remind the girl's father that you are betrothed even as she too will be soon, I do not doubt. Why you should find that such a crime, I do not know. But it is getting tiresome."

"My dearest little sister, there was hardly cause for her to act as though I was planning something nefarious." Knowing Brandon, reprehensible was quite possibly not the word she would have associated with his plan.

"Alas, you will see the wisdom in separating the two of you in good time." She offered him a small smile. "You are too charming by half, brother."

"Now, that I am not oft given to hear. You do know how to put a man in his place." He laughed, clearly enjoying himself. And glad she was he did not take offence; an angry Brandon was not the most pleasant man to be around even when she was well rested and had all her wits about her to deflect any confrontation.

"I know how to put you in place, which is, might be, the more important thing. But truly, Brandon, if you gave Lady Eddara a chance, you would see she is not the villain you paint her out to be." It was not that Lyanna did not understand the cause of his dislike; indeed, she imagined no man enjoyed being thwarted in his wooing attempts, even when his intentions were not entirely honourable. Brandon reacted as was natural to him.

A more gods-fearing man might have avoided the tangle altogether, a better man that was. Lyanna tried her best not to live with illusions. She liked to think herself capable to reading those about her at least in small measure. Brandon she'd known all her life and she'd seen him with a number of women, enough to know that while he never sought to harm others, his impulsive nature saw to it that hearts were broken. Despite that, however, he was most dutiful in his care for her. No matter how black the heart of the beast, there was always some sliver of nobility.

"Ever seeking to make peace and mend bridges." He shook his head. "Lady Eddara and I are precisely in the positions we wish for ourselves. You needn't seek to soften anyone's blows." Lyanna nodded. "Would that I knew, though, what it was she spoke to you at lengths about. I thought she might never leave her side."

"I doubt you would find any of it interesting, Brandon. We talked as women often do." Better not to reveal to him what manner of advice she'd acquired. "And in before you ask me the impossible. I enjoy talking with the woman and have no plans whatsoever to give the pastime up."

"Goods gods, I would hope I were not so highhanded as all that. Aside from which, had there been need for any protest father would have mounted it afore I knew what manner of folly unfolded." They both laughed to think of it. Father was an exceedingly careful man. But that was not a bad thin necessarily. As most matters, it simply was.

"I perceive my companion is swiftly returning to my side," Lyanna noted, eyeing the figure riding towards them. "If you do not relish a conversation, I suggest you go to father's side."

"A little conversation never killed anyone," her brother replied, remaining firmly at her side.

Eddara Mormont smiled softly at Brandon. "Apologies, ser. I did not mean to interrupt you and your sister." Something in her gaze told Lyanna she was about as repentant as Aegon the fourth would have been when acquiring a new mistress.

"Not at all, lady. I was simply enjoying riding alongside my sister." At the very least they could trade barbs in peace; baring the possibility of an out and out confrontation, they should be safe. She looked from one to the other and shook her head in wonder. Such contrary creatures should not be brought together, alas, Lyanna had little enough say in the matter once they began speaking.

"Such brotherly concern is commendable. One would wish such regard to extend to other men's sisters and daughters. I daresay, ser, you are most winsome when you wish it." Hadn't Lyanna said something to the same effect? She chuckled lightly and drew back.

"Where do you think you're going?" her brother demanded, gaze snapping to hers, trapping her in place. His stabbed at the ground with sharp hooves, no doubt reacting to his master's mood. Her mare reared nervously, muscles tensing beneath her. Lyanna smoothed her palm over the old girl's neck, murmuring a few comforting words.

"I wasn't aware I had to answer to you, ser," she said, adopting Lady Eddara's policy. Her lips quirked in a slow smile. "I simply thought since you've left father's side, I might ride over and fill the silence." Their father had little need of her prattling, Lyanna well knew. Here was hardly ever silence around him. But Brandon's stare softened some and he gave a sharp nod.

"Benjen will be grateful for the rescue, I daresay," he uttered with a deep lack of conviction.

The only brother missing from their gathering was Ned. They would meet, sure enough, at Harrenhal, but he rode, nonetheless, in company with his fellow squire, Robert Baratheon, and the lord in whose service father had placed him, namely Jon Arryn.

"And father for the intelligent conversation, I don't doubt," Lyanna teased back, the slight jab lifting the previous mood. "Now Lady Eddara, I must beg of you that you keep my brother company while I see to Benjen and his needs." Without waiting for any manner of response she took off, her mare cantering with relish over the distance between herself and her father.

If the man was surprised by her appearance he did not show it. Greatjon Umber, however, presented her with a jolly, flushed look and did not hesitate to ask after her arrival. "Not that I protest your presence in the least."

"I was simply about asking whether we were stopping soon. The day has been long." She knew she was tired. Lyanna travelled well enough, even with little rest, however, father had pushed and pushed and after many days without decent rest trouble was sure to arise. Father's pace was suited for the Northerner cavalry besides.

"So we shall," her father allowed. He returned to his previous conversation, leaving her with Benjen.

The youngest of her sire's trueborn children, he was yet shy of becoming a man. "Tired, are we?" he teased, his lack of subtlety alerting Lyanna to his ploy. She nodded. "A pity. One does not challenge an opponent when said adversary is tired."

"Challenge?" She knew what he was about, but she wanted him to say it.

"You did say we might race." She had, drat the brat. Lyanna's lower back ached and she held little doubt her brother was in alike state, but the stubborn little devil would not give up, thus she could not, in good conscience, refuse.

"A short race." The determination in her voice should be enough to quell any plans to the contrary he might have been hatching. Benjen nodded dutifully. Lyanna eyes their sire, meantime, to gauge whether they could take off without being chastised. "Lord father, Benjen and I will ride slightly ahead."

Distracted as he was, Rickard turned long enough to give a small nod and an indulgent smile. "Not too far, now," he warned, echoing her earlier sentiment.

Not too far, indeed, Lyanna thought, urging her mare into an unhurried canter. Her brother's equally docile gelding joined at a like pace, bringing them shoulder to shoulder. Or almost. Not long ago, the poor boy had been shorter than her, but the years had done their task, accomplishing a more appropriate height for Benjen Stark, although he was nowhere near Brandon's height yet. Ned had not yet been fully grown when last she'd seen him.

But Brandon, she recalled, was much the same. In his boyhood, he'd not been amongst the tallest. That had come with a spur of growth. If anything, both the younger brothers had time enough to grow as tall as giants.

"Is he looking?" she questioned softly.

"Nay; still caught up in his conversation with the Greatjon." And there was a man who did his name justice. Lyanna dared a brief look over her shoulder. "He is well occupied, I tell you. Now do we ride, or not?"

Digging her heels in her mare's flank, Lyanna took off without another word, leaving her brother is a cloud of dust. The full gallop of her mount shook her in the saddle. Were she of lesser spirit, she might have taken fright; but given she'd raced Brandon long before Benjen could mount a horse properly, she gave her younger brother no quarter on that account. She did feel somewhat foolish, nevertheless, acting the child. Benjen had the excuse of youth on his side; she was merely acting like a featherbrained pup.

Despite that thought, the thrill of the race was swift to come, especially as they passed the men at the front of the column. She heard father shouting from somewhere behind them, but since Benjen seemed to not mind the chastisements, she decided to allow some further amusement.

They were shoulder to shoulder again. "Not planning to go easy on me, are you?" the boy challenged, shouting over the pounding of hooves.

Lyanna merely laughed and picked a sturdy tree. "See that tree there. Whoever reaches first, wins." As for letting him win, she bent forth in the saddle, careful not to lose balance. "Just a little farther, old girl," she assured her mare. "Then we rest."

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delays. Unfortunately r/l makes demands of us all and I was obliged to meet them. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter and I'll try for something more substantial next time. I know this was rather...lacking, as it were.


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